


found you made us in a star

by princessoftheworlds



Series: fool me once, fool me twice [6]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: F/M, Found Family, Friendship, Immortal Ianto Jones, M/M, Original Character(s), Post-Canon Fix-It, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:47:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26457418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princessoftheworlds/pseuds/princessoftheworlds
Summary: Millennia after having lost their team, Jack and Ianto set about reuniting with old friends and crafting a Torchwood for a new future.
Relationships: Gwen Cooper/Rhys Williams, Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones, Owen Harper/Toshiko Sato
Series: fool me once, fool me twice [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1819213
Comments: 28
Kudos: 62
Collections: Torchwood Fan Fests: Bingo Fest 2020





	found you made us in a star

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Beleriandings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beleriandings/gifts).



> Happy Birthday, Bel! So I was all prepared to write you five domestic moments on Boeshane with the Harkness-Joneses, but when I asked you, you chose five moments of friendship between Gwen and Ianto instead. This is neither of those fics. This is an amalgamation between some of those ideas and some previous sad Owen ideas. I hope you like it!
> 
> This covers the "friendship" square for my Torchwood Fan Fest Bingo Fest card since it follows the team as a found family/close friends.

**5098**

**Cardiff**

**Ianto**

It’s only been four years since Ianto was last in Cardiff, but this time, everything feels different. For one, Ianto is no longer alone as he materializes onto the Plass.

Hand-in-hand, and smiling gleefully, Jack and Ianto step onto the paving stone, watching the Plass as they’re enveloped by the perception filter.

“Do you want to tap it out,” murmurs Jack, rubbing his thumb across the bumpy arc of Ianto’s knuckles, “or should I?”

“It was your joke that began this,” replies Ianto with a slight smile tugging at his lips, “so I think the honor should go to you.” He steps closer to Jack, their shoulders brushing together; their fingers slot together so perfectly.

Rolling his eyes, Jack lifts his foot and stomps out “Shave and a Haircut” onto the paving stone. A faint scraping noise later, and they begin to descend into the singular room that remains of the Hub.

Together, they approach the slab, and Ianto types in his personnel code. Jack shivers as they are both scanned by the soft blue light of the sensors.

“ _Identities confirmed,_ ” an automated voice says. “ _Torchwood Institute director Captain Jack Harkness and Torchwood Three operative Ianto Jones._ ”

“Ianto!” calls a familiar voice from behind them, and they both turn to find Gwen Cooper materializing behind them. Her pretty green eyes are wide with joy, but they only widen more as they drift across Jack and Ianto together, taking in the ecstatic smiles, the intertwined hands, and - most importantly - the matching sleek tungsten bands on their ring fingers. Gwen squeals loudly, attacking the both of them in a warm hug. “You found each other” is whispered into Ianto’s skin.

When she steps back, there are tears glimmering in her doe eyes that slowly flow down her pale cheeks. Jack, beaming, wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her into his side, pressing a sweet kiss to her forehead. “Not without your help, Gwen Cooper,” he tells her, and Ianto nods silently in agreement. “You were our compass, our north star. You guided us to each other.”

“And then, you two bastards went and got married without inviting me,” she retorts, sniffling, and gently smacks both of them on the back of the head. “You were there at my wedding!”

“There was no Nostrovite this time around,” Ianto teases, blushing brightly, smiling when Gwen scowls playfully. He clears his throat with a quick cough. “Actually, that’s what we’re here for. As much as we loved our original ceremony, as close to perfect as it was, there was something missing, and that was you. Torchwood. Our family.”

“And since you’re all we have left,” Jack continues smoothly, taking Gwen’s hands in his, “and since you couldn’t be there, we wanted you to have something.” He lifts his wrist, fingers poised over his vortex manipulator. “We recorded the entire ceremony, and we’re uploading it onto your systems for you to experience it yourself.” His smile widens as he stabs a button on his vortex manipulator, which emits a quiet beep.

Gwen stills briefly, expression becoming unfocused as she - presumably - watches the ceremony, smile growing and tears flowing faster. She sniffles again, and a moment later, flings herself back at them, pressing kisses to their cheeks. Her face is covered in glittering tear tracks, and Ianto inhales the familiar jasmine scent of her shampoo.

“It only took you, what, _two years_ to finally come find her again,” she teases, watching both of them duck their heads, looking guilty. “We will be having stern words later about what the two of you were doing.”

“Or rather _who_ we were doing,” Jack states unabashedly, shrugging when both Ianto and Gwen glare at him. “ _What?_ It was only each other.”

“And that one trader from the marketplace,” Ianto mutters, but unfortunately, Gwen’s keen ears pick up on his words.

Her nose wrinkles, accent thickening as she speaks rapidly, “I still have no desire to learn about your sex life!” She huffs a laugh. “Three thousand years later, and not much has changed.” She grabs both men by the wrists and pulls them down to sit cross-legged on the floor besides her. “Now, tell me. What’s the Boeshane Peninsula like?”

Jack, Ianto, and Gwen sit there for hours, trading stories, chatting, and giggling like maniacs. For a while, it almost feels like the twenty-first century again, and Ianto’s heart is light but hurting as he muses how Tosh and Owen should have been here with them. Eventually, time comes for Jack and Ianto to return home, but they promise a teary-eyed Gwen that they will be back.

“You better be,” she threatens, “or I will find a way to untether myself from the Hub and come to Boeshane myself.” She kisses both Jack and Ianto on the cheek again and steps back to watch them ascend to the Plass via the invisible lift again.

“The next time we decide to get married, Gwen will be there,” Ianto murmurs to Jack right before they teleport away, and Jack nods, grinning, but that’s a story for another time.

* * *

**6010**

**Boeshane Peninsula**

**Jack**

“...and so then the pterodactyl started to dive towards us! We thought it wanted to eat us, so Tad and I ran out of the warehouse until we realized we had a secret weapon!” Jack whispers enthusiastically, perched on the edge of Rhosyn’s bunk. Both Rhosyn and Franklin watch him, rapt. “ _Chocolate!_ ”

From where he leans against the round door frame, Ianto clicks his tongue. “She was a pteranodon, not a pterodactyl,” he calls to his husband, who turns to glare at him. “And it was dark chocolate, not just chocolate.”

“Hush, you,” Jack says, smiling playfully. “You could just tell the story yourself.”

“You could just get the details right,” Ianto retorts, rolling his eyes. But he can’t hide his fond smile. 

Eyes wide, Rhosyn, more cognizant than her drowsy younger brother, turns from father to father as if watching a tennis match when each man speaks. She scowls, tugging at Jack’s wrist. “Quit bullying Tad, Papa.”

“I’m not bullying-” Jack bites back a sigh before leaning over to press a gentle kiss to each of Rhosyn’s slim fingers. She’s so petite, so fragile. From the moment he first held her, he’s always been afraid he’ll accidentally hurt her. Not even Alice or any of his other children had been so tiny at birth. (And there is, of course, the lingering thousands of years of guilt over Steven, that one day, he’ll be forced to make the wrong choice again, and it will come at the cost of Ianto and their children. At the cost of Rhosyn and Franklin.) “Oh, never mind. Do you want to hear the rest of the story?”

She shakes her head, blond curls dancing with the movement. “We’ve heard about Myfanwy plenty of times. Tell us another one. A different one!”

“So demanding,” Jack murmurs, brow raised as he glances towards Ianto. “They get that from you.”

“No,” Ianto says, drifting into the bedroom to sit besides Jack on the bed. Their hands tangle together between their bodies. Even after ten years of marriage, Jack won’t stop reaching for, holding on to Ianto. “They get that from _you._ ”

Chuckling, Jack plants a demanding kiss that causes even his own toes to curl and leans back to see Ianto panting slightly. Ianto’s eyes are narrowed with the promise of revenge, and Jack knows that he’ll be in for a good punishment tonight.

“ _Papa!_ ” Rhosyn insists, not entirely mindful of Franklin, who has basically just fallen asleep on top of her by now. “Story!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jack replies, tweaking her nose and hearing her squeak adorably in protest. “Did I ever tell you about how Aunt Gwen and Uncle Rhys got married?”

He weaves a compelling tale of the evil Nostrovite that bit Aunt Gwen the night before her wedding while she was bravely fighting off monsters and how Aunt Gwen woke up the next morning with a baby. (Jack and Ianto have already had the how-babies-can-be-made talk with Rhosyn, who is old enough, and Franklin, albeit a few years too young for said talk, is definitely not listening.) Tad and Papa, aided by Uncle Owen and Auntie Toshiko, tried everything to catch the evil Nostrovite before it could hurt Aunt Gwen any more, but at the end of the day, it was Uncle Rhys who heroically saved the day by…

“...punching the Nostrovite out cold,” Ianto interrupts rather lamely before Jack can get to the - admittedly awesome - part with Rhys going Texas Chainsaw Massacre on the Nostrovite. He nudges Jack, mouthing, _You don’t want her getting nightmares tonight over Rhys Williams and a Nostrovite._

Jack shrugs. He knows that’s not how he wants his night to go. 

As both fathers stand and say their goodnights to Rhosyn, Ianto carrying Franklin over to his own bunk, pressing kisses to both children’s foreheads, Rhosyn’s voice calls after them, “Tad? Papa?”

Jack pokes his head back inside the bedroom, and the motion sensors flood it with dim light. “Yes, Rosie?” 

“What happened to Aunt Gwen and Uncle Rhys?” asks Rhosyn, her voice full of innocent curiosity. “And Uncle Owen and Auntie Toshiko? If they’re your friends, how come we’ve never met them?”

Heart _aching,_ Jack turns to glance at Ianto whose expression is similarly sorrowful. He looks like someone punched him in the gut, eyes wide. It’s been _years_ since they’ve thought about Owen and Tosh’s deaths, at least a decade since they’ve visited Gwen. Rhosyn doesn’t know about their immortality or the three thousand years her fathers were separated for; she only knows that before they lived in Boeshane, her Tad and Papa helped save a strange little city called Cardiff - though she hasn’t made the connection between her fathers’ stories and Earth - and didn’t see each other for a long, long while.

There is no good punishment for Jack tonight. Instead, he and Ianto lay in their bed, arms wrapped around each other, whispering stories about their beloved team.

“Rhosyn’s right,” Ianto says quietly just as Jack is dozing off. “She should be able to meet them.” He hesitates. “If Gwen can exist in the Hub, there should be a way for her to exist elsewhere.” Jack, head nestled against Ianto’s chest, leans up to smile approvingly at him.

The next day, they set to work.

* * *

**6664**

**Vesper**

**Gwen**

When Gwen wakes up, everything feels different. 

She’s laying on a soft surface, not materializing in a cold, cement room underneath the Plass, and when she props herself into a sitting position, her bare elbows slide against the smooth silk of the sheets. That’s when she realizes, gasping; she can _feel._

Quickly, Gwen slides from the bed, stretching to her feet, and shivers against the cold marble of the floor. After centuries - really only what felt like hours considering she only came online when the Hub had a visitor, she can feel again, touch things, feel pressure. Giggling a little, she taps out a quick rhythm against the floor, listening for the odd _slap_ of her feet. It sounds realistic, she realizes, brushing pale hands over her skin, feeling the softness along with the rough ridges of her faint scars. 

It feels like she’s more human than just a hologram projection.

Gwen whirls around, eyes traversing this strange room she’s woken up in, and then her mouth drops. “ _Bloody hell,_ ” she mutters as she approaches the wall that’s entirely a sheet of tempered glass. She presses her palms to the glass, leaving behind sweaty prints.

Outside this room, beyond this wall of glass, is a desert, flat sandy earth rippling away in all directions like the back of a giant beast, the suns - _plural_ \- spilling scarlet where they scrape the horizon. 

She’s _oh-so-clearly_ no longer in Cardiff. Gwen, who’d never truly left the planet even in life, stares at the desert with bated breath, heart quickening in its rhythmic beating.

Her hands curl into fists by her side.

Human or not, alien planet or not, Gwen Cooper is still a Torchwood operative, and her current role, as it has been since she died, is as the protector of Torchwood Three and the Hub, the Hermes for Jack Harkness and Ianto Jones.

_Or is it Jack and Ianto Harkness-Jones or Jack and Ianto Jones-Harkness?_ she ponders, realizing that she forgot to ask.

Gwen has to get off this alien planet, has to return to Earth, return to Cardiff.

Before she can decide _how exactly_ she’s going to proceed with her mission, a portion of the white wall opposite the glass wall slides open with a quiet hum, and Gwen spins around, hair whipping with the movement, fists up in a fighter’s stance, only to find Ianto stepping through.

“Gwen!” he cries, smiling widely. It’s a rare expression for Ianto, who used to be a lot more stoic at Torchwood, but then again, he’s now married and reunited with his lover and no longer scouring the universe for Jack. He has cause to smile now. 

“Ianto,” Gwen parrots back, returning Ianto’s smile. She drops her fists, relaxes her stance. “What happened? What are we doing here?”

“Relax, Cooper,” Jack replies, stepping through the door behind Ianto. “You’re fine, Gwen. You’re safe. _We’re safe._ ” He’s beaming, just like Ianto. 

Gwen cocks her head, eyebrows furrowed in bewilderment. “Alright, but why aren’t I in Cardiff any more?” Both men’s smiles only grow, and Gwen’s frown becomes more pronounced. “ _What did you two idiots do?_ ”

“Hundreds of years,” Ianto cuts in quietly. “We spent the last several hundred years working on and off in stabilizing your systems, and we finally succeeded.”

“Meaning?” Gwen asks, but she has a sneaking suspicion of what they’ve done. A bubble of happiness grows warm in her chest, a sparkly floating feeling like champagne dancing across her tongue.

“I had to fiddle around with Ianto’s vortex manipulator first, but we were more successful using mine,” Jack explains, stepping closer. “But we succeeded in untethering you from the Hub. You’re now linked to the Torchwood system, which conveniently can be accessed by our vortex manipulators.” He winks. “We made you portable. Ms. Cooper, you’re walking and talking and fully transportable now.”

“You can stay by our side for however long you want,” Ianto adds. “That is if you want.” His expression, wide-eyed and giddy, is entirely hopeful.

She takes a moment to process her newfound freedom before launching forward and dragging both men into the tightest hug she can possibly give. She relishes the feel of their warmth against her skin, Jack’s hand draping over her shoulder, Ianto’s head nestling into her chin. 

“Don’t be daft,” Gwen whispers into Ianto’s shirt. “Of course I want to stay with you. You’re my family.”

“Sorry we couldn’t show you Boeshane,” Ianto whispers back. 

“We don’t need Boeshane,” Jack says quietly. “We’ve got all of time and space with you, Gwen. We can start with this desert planet of Vesper.”

And Gwen finds that there’s nowhere she would rather be than back by her best friends’ side.

* * *

**7294**

**Space Station Cardiff**

**Jack**

The doors to their residence slide open with a quiet _whoosh,_ and Jack steps through, raking a hand through his already ruffled hair. He hangs his coat - navy synthetic wool cut to imitate the fall of the greatcoat, which is currently packed away as carefully as possible in their permanent possessions - on the hook next to the doors as they slide shut. Then he kicks off his boots and pushes them neatly in the corner. No need to have Ianto yell at him when he accidentally trips over Jack’s boots.

Jack rolls up the sleeves to his shirt as he wanders into the living room - all cozy and done in varying shades of green - to find Gwen and Ianto seated on the ottomans pressed against the window that looks into a dazzling galaxy. Both are rapt with their game of holographic chess. 

Gwen glances up and taps her cheek with a lone finger. Rolling his eyes, Jack obediently walks over to plant a kiss to her cheek before moving to Ianto. He roots a firm hand in his husband’s hair and pulls him up with a dirty kiss - with tongue! - that muffles Ianto’s yelp of protest. He can hear Gwen snicker behind him as she swiftly swaps her pieces with Ianto’s.

When Jack releases his husband, Ianto steps back, swatting him in the chest. “Was that entirely necessary?” he asks dryly, causally switching his pieces back with a flick of his hand through the hologram. Gwen scowls before turning the game off and turning her attention to Jack.

“Yes, it was,” says Jack blithely, reaching to tangle his fingers together with Ianto’s before dropping onto his lap. Ianto grunts in protest as he is squished with love under Jack’s weight. “I haven’t seen you all day.”

“You saw me yesterday,” Ianto reminds him, shifting slightly to wrap his arms around Jack and leaning against the wall.

Before Jack can retort, Gwen cuts in urgently, asking, “Did you get it?”

Jack nods. “One Jeremiah Bash Henderson has been sent off to destroy the Torchwood Archive,” he says before affecting a fairly accurate Scottish brogue: “Poor bloke’s getting hitched. I felt obligated to warn him about the traps of marriage.” He hisses when Ianto nudges him gently. Gwen is glaring at him, and Jack rolls his eyes again. In his regular voice: “Don’t worry. I made one last teleporting trip beforehand via this,” - he taps his trusty vortex manipulator - “and picked up what we need.” 

The slim silver memory dot Jack passes over finds a careful cradle in Gwen’s hands. “Can either of you retrieve the device?” she asks, voice hushed and reverent.

“I’ll get it,” Ianto volunteers and practically shoves Jack off of him before scurrying away to the bedroom. Pouting, Jack rubs his elbows. Moments later, Ianto returns with a flat sheet of silvery metal that matches the dot. He lays the sheet on the table before Gwen.

With steady fingers and eyes narrowed in concentration, Jack takes the dot back from Gwen and slowly places it onto the device, pushing it into place. A second later, a spark of opaque light glows at the center, rising higher and spreading wiser.

“Take it to the coffee table,” orders Jack, falling back into his role as leader of the team, and Ianto scurries to obey. The three of them form a loose circle around the coffee table, watching as the light forms a cylindrical beam. 

The light shimmers with colors, shifting across the full spectrum of the rainbow like a light show, until eventually settling on specific ones. Jack, Gwen, and Ianto watch in awe as the light solidifies into a figure - a young woman.

She has a fringe of fine dark hair falling across her face, rounded cheeks, delicate features, dark clever eyes that widen in wonder as her slim fingers wiggle into place. That proud chin lifts high as she glances around, soft mouth pursed in a frown, thin eyebrows furrowed. Finally, said eyes find Jack, Ianto, and Gwen standing before her and widen even more, becoming shiny with the suspicious sheen of tears.

Ianto is also teary-eyed. Gwen is full-on weeping. Jack is biting back a quivering lip, sniffling, as he steps forward. “Welcome back,” he says to the woman before snapping into a crisp military salute. His voice nearly breaks as he continues: “I never had a chance to tell you how brave you are, just as much as you are brilliant, and how proud you made me.” He hesitates. “There was no one else like you in the universe, Tosh.”

Head tilted curiously, Toshiko Sato nods as she steps forward towards her team. “You don’t know how much I missed you, Jack,” she says, “and Gwen and Ianto.”

That’s enough for Gwen, who breaks free past Ianto and wraps Tosh in a tight hug until both women are openly weeping into each other’s arms. 

Exchanging wet smiles, Jack and Ianto link hands before hurrying over to embrace Tosh.

* * *

**7330**

**Spaceship, edge of Apollan Galaxy**

**Tosh**

The spaceship, The Myfanwy, drifts through the vast infinity of space, and every once in a while, Tosh will glance up from her console, fingers still rapidly working away at the holographic display, to find herself gaping open-mouthed at the colorful tangle of stars and planets out in the distance.

The sight never gets old. Tosh likes to rise early - there is no concept of time or sunrises in deep space, but the ship has been programmed to respond to time cycles from nearby planets - and just watch the stars swim by. She likes to imagine it similar to how she would sometimes rise early in her flat back in Cardiff to watch the sunrise, warm mug of tea clutched in her hands. Except now and here, there is no mug of tea. Tosh cannot consume food, cannot drink the marvellous coffee substitute she can smell that Ianto makes for himself and Jack. The holo-light projectors, no matter how advanced and how much Tosh has continued to refine them in the last few decades, cannot mimic the taste of food or drink for her and Gwen. 

They’re much better off than they could be, however. For one, they’re alive, at least in some sense of the world. Tosh and Gwen have an incredible range of freedom and movement from the ship, which they are still loosely tethered to. That was the best Tosh could do; without being tethered to the ship, the two women would not be able to exist as projections.

Torchwood is also together again, albeit incomplete, but they’re intergalactic adventurers and heroes now and have saved the universe at least once this decade. Well, maybe not the universe - Jack likes to exaggerate - but at least a mid-sized galaxy.

The console beeps, and Tosh yanks her attention back to it, sighing. She’s scanning nearby galaxies and stretches of space, searching for strange disturbances or unusual anomalies, anything for Torchwood to get their hands in. The system is entirely automated, but Tosh likes to busy herself with it so that it gives her _something to do._ When not saving worlds, space can be - admittedly - a bit boring. Jack and Ianto have each other, and Gwen has kept herself busy with the Rhys projection she’s been slowly crafting over the last few decades, but Tosh is still a bit lonely.

She misses-

“How’s it going?” booms Jack’s voice as he strolls into the ship’s main cabin, lips curled into a loose, dopey smile. Clearly, he’s coming off a round of cuddling in bed with Ianto; two thousand years of marriage, and they still act like newly-weds. It’s rather cute when it’s not reminding Tosh of her lack of love. If she, as an AI simulation, can still fall in love. They haven’t really had much chance to test that, though Tosh has great first-hand experience that proves sex is still possible. (As much fun as it was, Gwen has agreed that they’re better off not repeating their night together; they’re too close friends than anything else.)

“Nothing much,” Tosh tells him without lifting her head. She continues changing her search parameters for much, _much_ further away all while Jack busies himself in the small kitchenette in the back of the cabin. He rattles about with a few plates, pulling jars and other things out of the cupboard. Tosh rolls her eyes. She adores Jack, but he’s not great for her concentration. 

Finally, tearing into a bagel-like bread they picked up from the planet of M’oux last week, Jack sits beside her with a loud sigh and delves into the Myfanwy’s logs from last week, humming under his breath as he does. They sit like that in companionable silence for at least ten to fifteen minutes until Tosh’s console beeps again.

Curiously, she opens up the result and inhales sharply, her holographic heart stuttering in its constant rhythm. Despite being a projection, Tosh can feel a sudden lump in her throat that feels very realistic, very, very human. 

“What is it?” Jack asks, peering at the console over her shoulder. Tosh meets his gaze, eyes welling with tears.

“It’s a strange anomaly,” she explains, sniffling. “We’ve encountered its energy signature before, lifetimes ago. _Several lifetimes ago._ ” She reaches over to grip Jack’s hand hard as she takes another ragged breath. 

His expression is sympathetic but bewildered as he squeezes Tosh’s hand in comfort. He doesn’t understand, but he hasn’t seen the energy signature yet. “What is it, Tosh?” he repeats, voice more urgent.

“It’s Owen. I’ve found Owen.”

* * *

**7345**

**Spaceship, edge of Apollan Galaxy**

**Owen**

“ _Oh, God_ -”

Once upon a time, Dr. Owen James Harper was alive. He loved, he drank, he fucked, he fought, and - most importantly - he saved lives. Naturally prickly - despite few managing to look past that to his soft heart, he could count the number of people he loved on both hands - Katie, Jack Harkness, Toshiko Sato, Ianto Jones, Gwen Cooper, Diane Holmes. 

Then he died. Jack brought him back, and Owen thought he would do none of those things again. How could he, not when he was essentially a corpse running on fumes? He didn’t realize that Tosh was there, within his reach, within his heart, until it was too late.

His world washed alight with a blaze of white in that nuclear plant and never stopped burning, until now.

Now, he becomes aware of _being._ Of having a body, of softness beneath his back, of warmth clutching his hand, of fingers stroking gently through his hair, of words being whispered in a hushed voice.

(Dimly, he’s aware of a millenia spent floating through the universe, a gaseous body that did nothing but _exist._ It wasn’t life, not really, but he was conscious to a degree.)

“Wha-” he rasps, lifting his head slowly. “What happened?” His voice is hoarse; it hasn’t been used in _years._

The hushed whispering stops. The grip around his hand tightens. The fingers in his hair still. 

“Owen?” His name is gasped by a familiar voice, one that sounds so right, so welcome. 

“Tosh?” Owen strains his neck, attempting to peer up at her, but she runs a gentle hand along his shoulder, pushing him down. Whatever fabric is covering his shoulder is thin, he realizes, because he can feel the warmth of her skin against his.

Then it hits him. He can feel again. Which means…

“I’m alive?” he whispers, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. He relishes the burning sensation; for so long, he’d been unable to cry, his body unable to produce moisture. “ _I’m alive. I’m fucking alive again!_ ”

“Yes, yes.” Tosh nods rapidly, and then he can feel his upper body hauled into her lap as she openly weeps into his hair. “We brought you back. We saved you.”

“Tosh,” comes a weak voice from a bit further away. It’s Jack, and Owen slowly swivels his head to face his captain, noting the sleek walls of the room he’s in. They - Tosh and Owen and Jack with Gwen and Ianto standing behind him, pale-faced - are no longer in the Torchwood Hub. “Is he alright?”

“What did you do, Harkness?” Owen growls, but he’s smiling widely. He attempts to prop himself up, leverage himself into a sitting position. Tosh steadies him with a solid hand at his back, and Jack rushes to his side, Gwen and Ianto close behind.

Jack is beaming. “What I did the first time you died. I brought you back,” he says, a shadow passing over his expression. “I’m so sorry I failed you, Owen Harper, but I’m here for you now.”

“Yes, that’s bloody wonderful and all,” Owen snarks, watching gleefully as Ianto rolls his eyes. The Welshman wraps a loose arm around his waist to support him alongside Jack and Tosh, and that’s when Owen notices the shiny ring on his finger. “ _You got married?_ ” When Ianto nods: “Who the hell to?”

“To me,” Jack pipes in, smirking. “Two thousand years ago.” He lifts his hand, and his own ring glints in the bright light of the room.

“Two thousand years…” Owen’s eyes are wide. He hesitates, fingers twitching. “What year is it?”

“7345,” Gwen supplies quietly, and he feels faint.

Quickly, she gives him the rundown of what he’s missed. Ianto is now immortal and apparently spent two millenia searching for Harkness’s sorry arse. Obviously, they found each other since they’re married now. Gwen and Tosh are both holo-light projections based off of the Torchwood systems.

“We were lucky to find you,” Tosh tells him, drying her eyes but still sniffling. “When you died, you still existed as a consciousness, as dust floating through the universe, and eventually, you made your way to where the Myfanwy was drifting through. It took me five years to devise a way to speed along your own natural process of reforming.”

Owen doesn’t think he’s ever been more grateful for Tosh’s brilliance.

“Thank you,” he tells her genuinely before raising his gaze to the rest of the team. “Thank you. I don’t know how I will ever be able to repay you.”

“You don’t have to, Owen,” Jack says gently. “We’re your family. You don’t owe us anything.”

“I owe you everything,” he replies, voice thick with emotion. 

Torchwood Three has been reunited, the team is together again, and they have the whole universe to explore.

* * *

**7567**

**Parivaar**

**Ianto**

The muscles in Ianto’s arm ache, screaming in protest, as he lifts his sonic rifle higher, falling into a defensive stance. It’s exhausting to hold a gun for an extended period of time, even when you’re used to doing so as a Torchwood operative. He takes a step higher on the stone stairs, ducking a bright blast that explodes against the wall and sends chips of stone flying everywhere. Instinctively, Ianto takes aim at the enemy soldier and fires. He smirks when he hears a slight scream as the soldier tumbles down the stairs, tripping his approaching comrades.

“Nice shot,” Jack calls from where he’s perched higher on the stairs that lead to the palace tower, holding a rifle of his own. He leers down at his husband. “You look good dirty.”

Exhausted and covered in a faint layer of grey dust from the initial explosion past the palace’s formidable marble walls, Ianto would disagree. “Not the time right now, Jack.”

From the main chamber of the tower, Owen calls down, “I agree, Harkness. Keep your cock in your pants. The ranis don’t need to hear this.”

“I don’t mind,” comes a thin but steady feminine voice. Rani Bhoomi. Ianto admires her; despite the deep wound in her side from the blade of one of her closest advisors, she’s attempting to keep the humor, to raise the rather dire spirits in this losing battle.

Parivaar, prior to this war, had been a rather lovely planet of thick, lush jungles and dry, arid deserts that had reminded Ianto of both Leev and Boeshane. Rani Bhoomi and her wife, Rani-consort Lavanya, had held a gorgeous celebration to kickstart the planet’s twelve days of light and worship that had quickly turned bloody when the rani’s advisors turned against her. Rani Bhoomi’s father had been a close friend of Jack’s, and she had luckily been able to gain contact with Jack before the ranis and their daughter barricaded themselves in the palace. The enemy forces had forced entry into the palace only mere hours before Torchwood arrived, wounding the rani. Now, Torchwood can only hope to hold off the enemy soldiers long enough to allow the royal family to flee. 

Tosh is working rapidly away on the energy force fields; if she can get them set up, the enemy will be held off for long enough to rig up the royal escape pods.

As another soldier attempts to climb the stairs, advancing towards Ianto, Ianto rolls his eyes and aims with his sonic rifle, only for it to click empty with the familiar hum of a drained battery. He sighs, sliding it back into the holster at his back. Useless piece of space junk that - for some odd reason - Jack was nostalgic about. 

Ianto reaches for the sonic blaster holstered at his side and takes the soldier out before he creeps any closer. He has a few rounds left in the blaster, and if he has to, he has a narrow curved blade, a weapon native to Parivaar, tucked into its sheath in his belt, but he’s not as well-versed with a blade as a gun. He rather have the energy field up than test his ability in swordfighting. 

“Any luck?” he calls up to Tosh.

She’s up in the tower with the rest of the team and the royal family. She hums as she responds, “Just a minute more.” A beat. “Promise.”

“Watch it!” cries Jack, and Ianto flinches, turning just in time for a sonic blast to fly straight towards his head. It’s come too fast for him to duck, and he braces himself for a bloody, burnt death before-

“Got it!” comes Tosh’s triumphant yell, and the blast fizzles against a golden shield of energy that arches into being inches away from Ianto. 

Ianto inhales a sharp sigh of relief and drops his blaster, tucking it back into the holster. He flips off the snarling soldiers, who are testing the force field. One of them ventures too close and shrieks an ugly death as he shrivels into a crisp.

Good. That should buy Torchwood at least an hour.

Once Ianto advances up the stairs, approaching the main chamber of the tower, he’s yanked into a tight niche and pressed into the wall by a frantic Jack who captures his lips in a messy kiss while trailing his hands over every inch of Ianto’s exposed skin, trying to assure himself that Ianto’s alright. A moment later, they part for breath, panting, and Jack rests his forehead against Ianto’s.

“Thought I was going to see you die in front of me again,” he whispers.

“How romantic,” Ianto snarks, but he reassures Jack with a gentle hand at the nape of his neck. He leans in and kisses his husband once more, nipping at Jack’s lower lip softly. “I’m okay.”

“Quit snogging,” yells Owen. “Tosh needs your help, Harkness.”

Ianto scowls at Jack, who snickers. Hand-in-hand, they enter the main chamber to find Rani Bhoomi - an elegant humanoid with brown skin and silvery eyes, waves of dark hair lying unbraided against her silk-covered shoulders - lying on the floor, her head cradled in her wife’s lap. Rani-consort Lavanya is stroking her fingers through Rani Bhoomi’s hair, reminiscent of Ianto cradling a dead Jack. Owen, kneeling on the floor beside them, is pressing strips torn from the rani’s gown to the bleeding wound in her side, absorbing the blood before disinfecting the ragged skin with liquor he’s somehow procured. That’s likely Owen’s superpower, the ability to find alcohol no matter where they go in the universe. A clean needle and spool of thread from the emergency first-aid kit Owen always carries on him waits by his knee in the lid of the kit. 

“The medical wing in the palace has been drained of power, and Tosh can’t restore it without actually being inside,” he explains to Ianto’s questioning stare. “All other technology has been destroyed or hacked. We have limited resources. It took Tosh bloody forever to get the force field up.”

“I’m trying my best,” Tosh replies, bristling as she glances up from the holographic display projected from the wall, but her eyes soften when Owen smiles proudly at her. Marriage hasn’t much changed how they interact. “Jack, come here. Maybe you’ll know how to work this system.”

Nodding, Jack hurries over. Ianto smiles at the royal family before moving towards where Gwen is chatting quietly with Noori, the princess. The little girl, colored similarly to both of her mothers, is shaking like an autumn leaf, likely terrified, but her expression is calm as she listens to Gwen.

“...she was just as brave as you are,” continues Gwen. “I was so proud of her, my little Anwen. But she insisted to me that she was going to marry this boy she loved.” Sorrow gleams in the depths of her lovely green eyes. “Do you want to know the funny part?” The little princess nods intently, and Gwen laughs kindly. “My husband and I weren’t going to say no. Anwen was making this big fuss of getting married to her boyfriend for no reason. Rhys and I thought it was too funny to say so.”

“Gwen,” Ianto hisses. Catching his gaze, Gwen nods and whispers something to the princess, who nods back before scurrying over to press her face in the skirts of her injured mother’s gown.

“What’s wrong?” Gwen asks.

“Have you heard from Rhys?” he questions.

Gwen’s eyes narrow with concentration. “Yeah, he’s up in the Myfanwy, just at the edge of the planet’s atmosphere. Now that we’re secure, Jack can help Tosh set up the teleport. Your vortex manipulators just won’t be powerful enough, not against the enemy technology. Tosh just discovered that the escape pods won’t work either.”

“We’re at the disadvantage here,” surmises Ianto. He barks a quick laugh. “Never thought I’d see the day when Torchwood had antiquated technology or when Time Agency tech was outdated.”

Gwen pats his arm gently. “Times change,” she tells him playfully before moving to converse with Rani-consort Lavanya and Noori.

Ianto chances a glance around the tower. Owen remains by the rani’s side, working diligently, while Gwen is clustered at her wife’s side, calming the rani-consort and her daughter. Tosh and Jack are delving deep into the holographic controls of the tower; Ianto has no doubt that in a few moments, they’ll have it up and working.

And up in the atmosphere, in their base and home, Rhys sits waiting for their arrival.

Torchwood has this under control, just as well as they always do. 

Jack lifts his head from his work and locks eyes with Ianto. An understanding passes between them as Jack smiles, which Ianto returns. 

They are alive and fighting, in the midst of action but surrounded by their team, their family. While they know it is temporary, that the energy holding Owen together will eventually fade, and the systems projecting Tosh and Gwen and Rhys will eventually fail, and that they will lose their family all over again, Jack and Ianto are happy and with the ones they love.

Outside humanity, beyond Earth. Fighting for the future on behalf of the universe. The twenty-first century was when everything changed, and Torchwood was ready. And they still are.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Birthday, Bel! I hope you enjoyed this! 
> 
> Find me on tumblr [here](http://princess-of-the-worlds.tumblr.com/) or on Twitter [here](https://twitter.com/rajkumarinik). I tweet and reblog mostly Torchwood with occasionally amusing commentary on nonsense. Please come talk to me and tell me if/how much you like my fic or like ask me about it on tumblr; all my schoolwork has become remote now, and I have limited social interaction. And if there's any other fool me once spinoffs you wanna see, feel free to ask in the comments!


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